And now for the news:

I have yet to catch the early-morning deliverer of our paper, but there are days I just know we have a new delivery person. I will admit we have been spoiled by our Russian fella (I cannot read his name on his annual Christmas card). In the years he has delivered the morning news, I have never had to take more than six steps from my front door to pick up the newspaper. Mostly, in those years, it has been swathed in plastic. In the summer, I don’t mind going out in my bare feet to feel the dew between my toes as I pick up the daily drop of pinecones on our lawn. But, somehow, I just can’t muster up the same enthusiasm when there is snow or ice out there. Some warmer mornings, when I am outside trying to beat the squirrels to the pine morsels, the news delivery person and I wave to each other as he carefully gets out of his car and hits his target once again.

Delivery usually is made between 4:45 and, on weekends, sometimes as late as 7:30. Often, I am at my computer when I hear a simple thud against the front door. I listen for a car engine or the sound of gravel being moved by car tires. However, the only ways to know for certain the sound came from the delivery person is to peek out a side window to see if there are car lights heading further down our road or else go to the door and check.

You may wonder how I know someone new is taking his place? The first clue was when we returned from a week-long trip, and the expected subscriber stack of papers did not show up on our doorstep on the day of our return. (Let me digress enough to say “I love this service!”) Nor did they come the next day. So, on the third day, I called and asked that delivery begin again. And there it was on day four, held together by a single rubber band. The banded papers continued for several days, rain or shine, snow or dry. And, did I mention, just beyond my reach?

Now, here, I must admit that each day must come as a surprise to anyone pulling into our driveway. One day, the cars may be in the garage. The next day, there could be several autos in the driveway. Another day, our lengthy van might be on the side, blocking view of our porch. And still another day, the van may be parked with a camper or trailer attached. I have marveled at good service all this time.

The new delivery person has managed to hit the muddy flower bed and hidden the news under vehicles. I have had to search around house corners and in stacks of fire wood. I say all this to say “I miss the regular fella.” I do notice that the paper weighs less these days and excused the poor aim somewhat to this. This does not, however, make walking barefoot in the snow any more pleasurable.